


I wanna be your boyfriend

by aryastark_valarmorghulis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), New Year's Eve, POV Remus Lupin, Pining, Presents, Romantic Comedy, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28533423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aryastark_valarmorghulis/pseuds/aryastark_valarmorghulis
Summary: New Year’s Eve, 1976. Remus goes to James’ party and Sirius doesn’t know how to accept gifts.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 36
Kudos: 232





	I wanna be your boyfriend

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my amazing Beta [maraudorable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/violentthunder/pseuds/maraudorable).  
> Happy New Year (even if I'm late), Wolfstar fandom!  
> Edit: please check out [this](https://mlim8.tumblr.com/post/639491454055612416/aryastark-valarmorghulis-happy-new-year-wolfstar) beautiful artwork by the talented [mlim8](https://mlim8.tumblr.com/), inspired by this fic ❤

Remus’ first New Year’s Eve party looks a lot like Gryffindor winning the House cup – or any Quidditch match: James and Sirius smuggle in the alcohol and entertain the guests, Lily pretends to lend her records reluctantly but she’s the first one to dance, Alice makes eyes at Frank and Frank makes eyes at Alice, both too shy to do anything else, Dorcas does her Slughorn and Dumbledore impressions that make everyone laugh, even Marlene who’s usually curled up in a quiet corner, and Peter, well, Peter talks to any girl who’ll listen, or at least he tries. Remus usually pours glasses of whatever foul beverage there is and shuttles back and forth between being the perfect audience for James and Sirius and keeping Marlene company. In the process, he manages to find the exact moments when Sirius isn’t watching him to pine at the sweet sight of him. 

This party is not much different, except Sirius is in a mood. Considering the circumstances, they're all very sympathetic to the point of coddling, which, of course, makes his mood exponentially worse, so much that sometimes Sirius abruptly storms off and goes outside to smoke. Or to brood, maybe, Remus reckons, but he’s about to find out.

As soon as he steps outside, the icy night air is cutting like a blade and the enchanted fairy lights dangle from the ivy-covered walls, twinkling yellow, red and blue like magic fireflies. 

His boots squeak on the frozen stone steps and Sirius turns immediately, the orange glow of his cigarette casting eerie shadows on his face. He didn’t even put his coat or his robes on, he’s still in his black jeans and a half-unbuttoned floral shirt – he’s got a crush on Robert Plant and he’s ridiculous about it – so he must’ve cast a strong Warming Charm, taking full advantage of being able to use magic outside of school for the first time. 

“Everything alright?” Remus asks, tightening the scarf around his neck with one hand and holding a napkin in a bundle with the other. 

“Yes,” Sirius replies. “Of course. What could be wrong?” 

Remus can think of a few things that might be wrong, starting with Sirius running away from home on Christmas Eve and apparently now living with James and his parents, going on with the absolutely nonsensical joint owl where they told the story like a big funny joke, and ending with Sirius being currently on his eleventh smoke break, and it’s not even midnight. Yes, Remus counted them. He estimated that by the time they toast to the new year, Sirius will have smoked a whole packet.

“Well, you’re coming here outside a lot…” 

“Have you been watching me?” Sirius takes a drag from his fag, and Remus hates that there isn’t any hint of teenage awkwardness in the way he holds himself, straight and tall and confident when he blows out the smoke from his nose. He hates that he’s blushing after hearing that question, because the right answer would be: _yes, I usually am_. “Are you perhaps... _worried_?” Sirius asks.

The back of Remus’ neck prickles under the uncomfortable itch of being seen and wanting to hide, but he just shrugs, trying to mimic Sirius’ careless attitude. “Maybe a little.”

“Oh no – fucking Merlin, _no_ , _please,_ ” Sirius says, and when he fixes Remus with a look, there’s a gleeful, dark glint in his eyes that doesn’t bode well. “Please tell me this isn’t the moment where I open my wounded heart and I spew out all my shame for being a Black and other shite? And then we hug and little flowers come out of our mouths and everything ends up in an explosion of singing nightingales and homemade biscuits –”

“Got it,” Remus cuts him off, laconic. “No need to be an arsehole.” When Sirius gets in one of his moods, he’s better left alone to cool off, but right now inside there’s a party with nine people, and Sirius has been picking on Peter’s bad luck with girls a little bit too much for it to be gentle teasing. Remus can take the brunt of his temper for a while, but he’s not even sure that running away from home and being disowned can actually be reduced to “Sirius in a mood”.

It’s deeper than that, and a smitten, naive part of him hopes that Sirius would actually trust him enough to open up to him. 

“Can I eat your mince pie if you don’t want it?” Remus says.

Sirius shakes his head and vanishes the butt of his cigarette with a wave of his wand. “Nice try, Moony, just give it to me.”

And Remus does. He didn’t say it, but he’d spent all afternoon baking mince pies under his mum's strict supervision; it was her idea to decorate them with the initials of the guests’ names. He didn’t say how much care he’d put into slicing the pastry dough into two little curves, to make a perfect S. 

Sirius shoves half the pie in his mouth and hums appreciatively. “‘s so good, Moony… Give my thanks to your mum for me.”

“Oh, I actually baked the pies myself while she watched me and told me what to do.” He doesn’t add that she wasn’t feeling very well today and he almost didn’t come to the party. Hope persuaded him to go and have fun with his friends, but when Remus tossed a handful of Floo powder in the fireplace and stepped into it, dread filled his nostrils along with the smoke. _What if this is her last New Year’s Eve_. 

But he doesn’t want to make the whole conversation about himself and his fears, so he shuts up and watches Sirius licking the crumbs off his fingers. Sometimes he thinks they’re much too young to carry the burdens they carry. 

“Alright, do you want a cigarette or are you just making sure I’m not crying or something?” Sirius asks, and Remus is glad he only has the time to groan because the door opens behind him, light and laughter spilling through it for a second. 

Lily, Dorcas and Marlene – her cat wrapped in a fuzzy blanket and feebly protesting in her arms – step outside, all bundled up in coats and robes and scarves and mittens, like the sensible people they are. 

“Oh, Remus, you’re here too!” Lily beams. “Black, for God’s sake, put something on, frostbite won’t be a good look!” 

Sirius huffs. “I cast a Warming Charm, Evans, but it’s nice to know that I’m finally growing on you.”

Lily rolls her eyes and Marlene does, too, a bit more subtly. 

“Be nice, Sirius, or we won’t give you… this,” Dorcas offers him a soft package wrapped in gold paper. “And next time I hit a Bludger, I’ll aim very, very carefully.” She winks. 

_Please don’t be an arsehole, please don’t be an arsehole_ , Remus prays. 

“It’s not my birthday,” Sirius says, after a beat of silence. “And none of you ever bought me presents for Christmas. In fact, and it’s shocking, I know, I don’t think Evans and Marlene even like me that much.”

Marlene shuffles a bit and scratches behind the cat’s ears. Lily and Dorcas exchange a subtle look. 

Of course they wanted to be sweet after hearing about Sirius running away from home, because they’re genuinely sweet: Lily under her fiery temper (not unlike Sirius’, actually), Dorcas with her relentless teasing, and Marlene, so quiet and reserved. 

“Alright, we’ll give it to Marlene’s cat, then.” Lily shrugs. 

“Just take this bloody gift!” Dorcas shakes her head, her curly ponytail swaying at the top of her head. 

“We didn’t buy it anyway, we made it,” Marlene explains, still looking at her cat. “To thank you for hosting the party.”

“I mean, I’ll take it if nobody wants it,” Remus says, attempting a smile. 

Sirius sighs and huffs. “Did you bring James a gift, too, then? It’s _his_ house.”

“Well, yes,” Dorcas replies. “The stottie cake and the shepherd's pie and the potato latkes –”

“Let’s face it,” Lily cuts in. “If I brought Potter a gift, he would probably faint or something.”

They all laugh, Sirius included, and he finally grabs the package in his hands, huffing like he’s only humouring them all. 

“The note first!” Lily says, clapping her hands.

“He can read, right?” Dorcas asks, looking at Remus, and they all laugh again, the last lingering trace of tension dissipating like a weak Boggart in front of six years of shared jokes and familiarity. 

Sirius flips her off and reads the note in silence, pockets it and tears the wrapping paper. His hands tremble slightly, as if he’s not used to receiving gifts, and the torn paper reveals a long scarf underneath. The wool is black and has the same chunky pattern Remus learned to recognise after watching Marlene knitting scarves, mittens, blankets and hats in front of the fireplace for years; an enchanted badge flashes between the phrases _I'm gonna send ya_ and _Back to schooling_ and another badge switches between _Gonna make you burn_ and _Gonna make you sting_. But the most peculiar detail is the gold Canis Major constellation twinkling prettily alongside the length of the scarf, the stars sparkling every time the fabric moves. 

“Marlene knitted the scarf, I enchanted the badges and Lily charmed the stars,” Dorcas explains. “If you press the badges and Sirius, they’ll turn off and then it’s just a regular scarf.”

“ _Oh_. I –” Remus watches Sirius swallow thickly, his voice low and rough with an unnamed feeling. “I love it,” Sirius says, and when he looks up, his cheeks are red and his eyes almost feverish. “Thank you, it’s – it’s a beautiful gift,” he adds, in an uncharacteristically small voice. 

All four of them beam at him, but then Sirius _sniffs_ and wipes his nose with the back of his hand; for a single, astonishing moment Remus almost believes Sirius is going to cry, which doesn’t make sense because he didn’t even want the gift in the first place.

But then Dorcas goes to hug Sirius, who grabs Marlene too, and it soon becomes a group hug with Lily dragging Remus as well, a mess of arms and hands and cat fur and hair in his mouth. 

“Alright, let’s go back inside before we turn into icicles,” Lily suggests, and they all pretend not to notice that Sirius is sniffling again, but once they’re at the table, where James, Peter, Frank and Alice are still arguing about the superiority of Muggle music over wizarding music, Sirius is all smiles and quickly joins the conversation.

Remus notices, with no little disappointment, that the big cauldron that was filled to the brim with Frank’s barley soup is now empty, so he settles for another Kulkul. As soon as he hears Peter using the Bee Gees as an example of good Muggle music, his eyes meet Sirius’ across the table and they share a smile. Remus thinks of his own little gift, hidden behind the Christmas tree, that he hasn’t had the chance – or the nerve – to give to Sirius.

Shortly after they clear the table – or, more accurately, watch while Sirius, the only one who’s already seventeen, Levitates the dirty dishes to the sink and the leftovers inside the pantry and Vanishes the rest – they scatter around the living room grabbing Butterbeers, pumpkin juice, the vile punch James and Sirius concocted and a bottle of Firewhiskey that James stole from his parents’ cabinet. Peter settles on the velvet sofa between Frank and Alice – poor bloke still doesn’t understand that Alice is just not interested in him – while Dorcas, Marlene and the cat share the loveseat, with Lily at their feet, cross-legged on the silk throw pillows. 

James is putting on one of Lily’s records – ABBA are way better than the Bee Gees – and Remus sips the punch for liquid courage and nearly retches, and then goes to Sirius, who’s still Vanishing spots of pumpkin juice from the floor. 

“I have a present for you too,” he says, keeping his voice low. “Something little,” he adds, quickly. 

Sirius’ mouth twitches. “Oh, so you sent the girls first to pave the way, and now I must accept your gift without complaining. Sneaky.”

Remus shakes his head and chuckles. “I didn’t even know about their present, and, well, you kind of complained about it.”

Sirius smiles. “Great, then I can complain about yours as well.” He spreads his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, where is it?”

“I hid it behind the Christmas tree.”

“Go get it and let’s go upstairs – I haven’t even shown you my room yet.”

Being alone with Sirius in his room sounds like the best and the worst idea ever, so Remus nods.

They climb the stairs, leaving behind the sounds of Dancing Queen and their friends chattering; Sirius’ bedroom is the biggest guest room on the second floor, next to the room that James showed Remus before and where he’ll be sleeping tonight.

It’s huge, with paneled walls and dark wood flooring partially covered with persian rugs, a double bed, a creamy velvet ottoman, a leather armchair and a dark writing desk with twisted legs and unicorn bas-reliefs carved into the wood. Remus can already spot the influence of Sirius: from his school trunk open on the floor to a couple of sweaters and robes thrown over the chair, from the paperback that suspiciously reminds Remus of his lost copy of The Hobbit on the nightstand to the record player placed on the dresser. A glossy motorcycle poster and a magic photograph of James kissing the Quidditch cup with Peter, Remus and Sirius cheering are taped to the wall. 

“I remember you buying me a new inkpot for Christmas, Moony – your owl woke me at an ungodly hour. So what’s this?”

“Open it.” Remus hands him a thin, square package and places his glass of horrible poison-like punch on the desk. “Don’t make too much fuss over it…” He watches Sirius tearing the cheap brown paper and staring at the record cover of Ramones’ debut album like he’s not sure what to say.

“I just thought that – well. Since now you can listen to Muggle music whenever you want… And it’s a cool record, I think.” Remus shrugs.

He read endless complaints last summer about how Sirius’ parents forbade him from listening to Muggle music in Grimmauld Place and kept sending the awful house elf to switch off his player, so he thought a new record might cheer him up. 

Sirius smiles his lopsided smile, the one that dislodges something between Remus’ ribs and sends it up soaring at the back of his throat. 

“Thank you, Moony. Of course it’s cool,” Sirius says. “I mean, this is all incredibly mushy and a bit ridiculous, truly – I’m finally free and I've never been better, so I don’t know why you gits act like I’m about to set myself on fire. I say good riddance, and that’s it.”

Remus has quite a lot of doubts that things can be as simple as Sirius pretends, and he also knows by now that sometimes what Sirius withholds is even more important than what he loudly declares. He never talked much about home, about his parents and his brother, just some enraged rants about how stupid and narrow-minded and boring and crazy they all were, but no details, no anecdotes, nothing. Still, Remus remembers opening the Marauders Map sometime during a free period, just to admire their masterpiece, and spotting two little dots in the corridor that leads from Flitwick’s office to the Arithmancy classroom: _Sirius Black_ and _Regulus Black_.

“Good riddance,” Remus repeats. 

“You shouldn’t worry too much, you’ll get a headache or something. I’m never sad for too long, anyway.” Sirius smiles at him, his gaze softening.

“I already have one, thanks to _that_ ” – Remus gestures towards his discarded glass of punch – “disgusting stuff you made us drink.” 

“Hey, it’s not bad, we followed Prongs’ great uncle’s recipe!” Sirius protests, but he’s still smiling.

“You drink it, then!” Remus dares him, since he’s pretty sure he never saw him so much as sniff it. 

“Very good.” Sirius goes to the desk, grabs the glass and drinks it all bottoms-up. Then he coughs and gags and Remus starts to laugh at him. 

“Eh. Maybe too much rum,” he says, clearing his throat. “I have a little something for you too, now that I think about it. Even if you didn’t run away from home on Christmas Eve.”

“But we already exchanged gifts on the Hogwarts Express,” Remus says. Sirius got him an ancient first edition of _Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes_ , a bag of Honeydukes sweets and a miniature orrery model. Sirius stops rummaging in his trunk to turn his face to him and fix him with a look. Remus hastily adds: “And I didn’t run away from home on Christmas Eve, so I don’t get why –”

“It’s not even a proper gift, don’t fret,” Sirius says, and then he stands up and opens his palm, full of Sickles and Knuts. 

Remus raises an eyebrow. Sirius and James casually slipping a few coins in his pockets or even inside his mittens and then pretending not to know anything about it is one thing, but Sirius straight up giving him money is another. 

“I charge by the hour, you’ll need more than that,” he deadpans. _And aren’t you disowned_ is what he doesn’t add.

“Just listen to me,” Sirius says, unperturbed. “This is enough for a round trip from Gwernogle to London, with the Knight Bus. The day after tomorrow James and his parents are going to see the Holyhead Harpies versus the Montrose Magpies, they purchased the tickets ages ago and Prongs won’t stop talking about it, except he’s being a git and doesn’t want to leave me home alone, and the tickets are sold out.” 

Remus nods, because he heard a lot about this supposedly important match – Dorcas is going, too – but he has no idea what that has got to do with him and the money Sirius is offering.

“So I was thinking we could go to London together and, I don’t know, take a walk, visit the British Museum, say hi to the Queen, or any other thing you like… You can even try to make me talk about feelings and stuff. Which I won’t. Prongs wouldn’t feel bad about going to see the match if we’re in London together. So, do you want to come with me?”

Remus can’t think of anything that sounds better than walking around London with Sirius – well, maybe he can imagine a few things that involve kissing, but still. It’s still the best _realistic_ thing. 

“Yes, of course, that’d be fun – thank you.” 

Remus grins and Sirius does, too; when he takes the money from his hand, his fingers brush against the delicate, blue-veined skin of Sirius’ wrist. His cheeks feel warm and he blames the punch until Sirius steps so close that the tips of their shoes are touching and he watches Remus with a burning stare, not amused, not worried, not angry. Just staring. At this point Remus blames himself and his hopeless crush because he feels hot all over, his face and his ears and under the collar of his shirt. 

“So, tell me,” Sirius says. His eyelashes are long and cast pretty shadows on his handsome face. “Do you want to kiss someone at midnight?”

Remus groans. It’s a stupid joke, of course. _Of course._

Before the other guests began to Floo, Peter was raving about a girl to kiss at midnight – a girl, James pointed out, whose name maybe starts with _al_ and ends with _ice,_ and while Remus tried to explain that Alice seemed to be awfully close to Frank these days, Sirius straight up declared that Peter would have a better chance at snogging Jane Birkin. 

“Oh, Jane Birkin, of course,” Remus replies, but any other words run dry on his tongue because Sirius is close, so close that his long hair brushes Remus’ cheeks. 

“She’s pretty cool,” Sirius whispers, his breath warm and spicy as he leans in.

Remus murmurs something nonsensical like: “You’re cool.” And then he closes his eyes and they’re kissing once, twice, until Remus figures out where to put his hands – on Sirius’ shoulders, he likes feeling how broad and well-built he is – and Sirius grabs his waist with shaking hands, and then they sigh in each other’s open mouths – 

“Sirius!” James’ loud yell from downstairs makes them both jump. “Mate, Peter just threw up on my grandmother's ancient rug, can you come and Vanish it?”

They both groan and chuckle at the same time.

“Yes, hurry up because it stinks!” They hear Dorcas’ voice, followed by more noise and the cat meowing loudly. 

“Later in my room?” Sirius asks, his hands still clutching Remus’ waist. 

Remus stands up on his toes and kisses his mouth again. “Later in your room.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](https://aryastark-valarmorghulis.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
